


A Bat Loosed From Hell

by deepestfathoms



Category: Six - Marlow/Moss
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood, Body Horror, Discrimination, Gen, Growing Wings, Superstition, Tour Aragon is a fucking BITCH, Tour Bessie is Babey, Tour Howard is a Mom Friend, Tour Jane is a sweetheart, Tour!verse, UK Tour, Wing Discrimination, Wings AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 23:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22001686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepestfathoms/pseuds/deepestfathoms
Summary: [UK Tour Universe]In an avian world, crow wings were a sign of darkness and impurity.In an avian world, crimes can be punished by the removal of wings, usually with an axe.In an avian world, cut off wings can sometimes grow back.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	A Bat Loosed From Hell

Joan was home alone when her wings grew in. She had finally gotten a day off, so she decided to just sleep in and relax at the house while everybody else went out. For once, she was happy that they didn’t invite her, because growing a pair of limbs in public wouldn’t exactly be something she could easily live down.

However, she did wish someone had been there with her. 

When she heard the front door opening and closing, she began to call out for Maria as loudly as her hoarse voice could manage, since she was too sore to go get the woman. It took a moment, but she eventually heard footsteps approach, followed by her door opening.

The first thing Maria did was gasp upon entering the room. She saw the blood splattered across the walls and ceiling, soaking into the sheets, and then Joan, shivering on top of the messy blankets. Finally, she noticed the wings.

They were stained red, but she could see hints of pure white peeking out ever so slightly.

“Joan!”

Maria rushed over to the bedside and knelt down, stroking some hair out of Joan’s sweaty face. She girl pressed into her touch.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Maria softener her voice, “You…”

“I grew wings,” Joan said. Her voice was weak from screaming. “Did you see them, Maria? I have wings!”

“You do,” Maria chuckled. She reached out a hand and gently glided it through the feathers, making the wing she was touching flutter a little upon contact. “When did this happen?”

“An hour ago, I think,” Joan answered, “My wingbuds started to hurt real bad, but I didn’t want to bother you.” Maria frowned at that, “Then it got worse and worse and…” Her wings flex a little, “And then I had these things.”

The girl was clearly dazed from what she had gone through. She needed rest and to get cleaned up, but they shouldn’t happen in bloody sheets.

“Alright, sweet pea, let’s get you out of that mess, okay?” Maria said, gesturing to the coagulated blood congealing in the blankets. She heard Joan whine softly in protest and added, “It’ll be really quick, okay? Then you can sleep and I’ll give your wings a nice groom.”

Having no other option, Joan agreed. She was mainly limp as Maria pulled her out of the bed and onto the floor to wait. The pianist dozed in and out of consciousness as her sheets and blankets are pulled off to be washed and replaced by temporary ones.

“Hey,” Maria is shaking her shoulder, “Don’t fall asleep here, silly. It probably won’t be too comfortable.”

Joan blinked several times and then crawled back up onto the bed with Maria’s help. She rested her head in the drummer’s lap, snuggling up as close as she could before breathing out a soft sigh of relief.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” Maria said.

Joan was asleep within seconds, curled up against Maria as a warm cloth wiped down her feathers and revealed the glory of her new white tern wings. Maria couldn’t help but smile proudly at them.

“Maria?”

Maggie and Bessie are peeking in. Their eyes go wide when they see the wings.

“Woah!” Bessie gasped.

“Joan has wings!” Maggie exclaimed.

“Shh,” Maria hushed them, “Don’t wake her. You can come in, just keep your voices down.”

They both nod and slip inside. Maggie immediately began inspecting the wings in awe, while Bessie holds her hand out to touch. She looks at Maria for permission and pets gently when the drummer nods.

“They’re beautiful,” She murmured, happy for her bandmate. However, Maria doesn’t miss the look of jealousy in her eyes. Her gaze drifts to the bassist’s bare back, and she can understand why.

When Bessie got reincarnated, she was happy to know she wasn’t the only wingless one in the group. Sure, it might have been selfish or rude, but that’s really how she felt. That she wasn’t the only different one there.

However, the difference between her and Joan was that Joan didn’t get hers removed.

Bessie remembered what it was like having wings. Sure, she was a crow and those were looked down upon and nobody really wanted to associate with her, but she loved her wings. She loved flying with them and how soft and glossy the feathers were and how they shimmered in the sunlight. Even if her entire family were colorful, she was perfectly content with her plumage.

Bessie loved her wings.

But, like most things she loved, they were taken away.

Wings, to Catholics and Christians at least, were a sign of purity, good will, gifts from god. They were blessings, they made avians closer to angels, so when someone sinned, naturally, they don’t deserve to have their gifts. For example: The punishment for an affair with a king would be removal.

And that’s just what happened.

Ever since then, Bessie was classified as “flightless”. It was the term used for, well, defective avians. It didn’t matter if you had wings and just couldn’t fly or didn’t have wings at all- if you weren’t airborne, then you were flightless. That simple.

Nobody liked associating themselves with the flightless, so Joan and Bessie felt lucky they got jobs in a big musical production. Especially Joan, who became the music director! Perhaps that was because she had wingbuds extending from her shoulder blades, which were enough for the director to take pity on her. However, Bessie knew she didn’t get that kind of treatment. Not that she blamed them. She was a sinner.

Phantom pains weren’t uncommon. It always felt as if Bessie still had her wings, but, right now, she was sure what she was feeling wasn’t phantom pain. It was just pain.

Its been in her shoulder blades all day long. Every since she woke up that morning, her entire upper felt like it was on fire. It hurt to stand up straight and sit against the seat of the car on the ride to the theater (they wouldn’t HAVE to drive if she just had her wings still…), and she already knew playing her bass wasn’t going to be any better.

And she was right.

Pain. Everywhere. Bessie kept her jaw clenched tightly as she played through Ex-Wives and No Way and Don’t Lose Ur Head, but it was getting worse. Way worse.

Bessie did her best to focus on her bass and the show and those two things alone, but during Heart of Stone, she felt a tearing sensation that was accompanied by a ripping sound and shortly followed by a shriek of pure agony.

Bessie collapses.

Utter shock fills the theater. Everyone is frozen, staring with wide eyes, then Maria is lunging down to Bessie’s side and a stagehand in the wings is scrambling for the curtains. Once they’re closed, everyone backstage is moving, huddling around the fallen form of their bassist.

“What the hell is going on?” Aragon demands, clearly annoyed, “What’s wrong with her?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Maria snapped back. She softens her voice when she starts to refer to Bessie, “Bessie, darling, can you hear me?”

The girl offers a tiny mumble, but nothing really more comprehensible than that.

“Sweetheart, you gotta tell us what’s-” Maria stops mid-sentence when she placed a hand on Bessie’s back and felt warmth beneath it. When she pulled back, her palm was red.

Blood.

“Get the costume off.” Maria orders immediately and Howard and Cleves both kneel down to help. Cleves unzips the zipper, revealing a bloody mess upon Bessie’s back and the split open, inflamed marks on her shoulder blades.

“What the fuck?” Anne muttered from the side.

“Why isn’t she wearing a bra?” Aragon commented, her nose wrinkling in disgust.

“Why is that the thing you zeroed in on?” Parr asked.

“Seems a little slutty to me, that’s all.” Aragon shrugged.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cleves warned, tipping her kestrel wings at the golden eagle. Aragon scowls, but quieted down for the moment.

Howard set a hang on the space between Bessie’s shoulder blades, seemingly feeling for something. She pursed her lips, eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“What?” Maria asked.

“Do you think she’s growing wings?” Howard said.

That made Bessie squeak softly in alarm and Maria quickly hushed her by smoothing out the hair on her head.

“Doesn’t seem impossible,” Parr nodded, “She might be like Joan.”

“Yeah,” Joan agreed.

“It hurts…” Bessie whimpered softly, turning attention back to her, “It hurts… Please, please make it stop…”

“I know it hurts, sweetheart,” Maria murmured sadly, “I know. I’m sorry. There’s nothing we can do until…”

“Until what?” Bessie asked quietly. She looked up at Maria, who is at a loss for words.

“Just try to relax.” Maria said instead. She felt Bessie loosen up a little in her lap and she smiled slightly, “That’s it. There you go… Good girl.”

The silence doesn’t stay for long, however. Bessie’s entire body suddenly shuddered violently and her shoulder blades seemed to flex further from her back until the flesh tore open wider. A shriek of agony ripped out of Bessie’s lips as she flailed and struggled in Maria’s lap, screaming and begging for the pain to end.

All while the others could only watch in horror as twin appendages started to grow out from her flesh before their very eyes.

Wrapped in a sheen of tissue and glistening with fluids, the limbs pushed out from her shoulder blades and into the open air. The one on the left came free easily because of the slippery slick coating it, but the right seemed to be stuck in the gash, which dragged out Bessie’s suffering.

The girl is still screaming bloody murder, kicking the ground and clawing up Maria’s legs. She chokes and sobs as the pain worsened and she slammed her head down into the drummer’s lap.

“It’s stuck!” Cleves yelled.

“Yeah, no shit!” Howard snapped back. “Fuck! _Fuck!_ What do we do?!”

“Get it unstuck!” Parr said.

“I’ll do it.”

Jane was the one to step in to do this. She knelt down on the other side of Bessie and, with a deep breath, grabbed the wing with one hand and stuck her fingers into the gash with the other. This prompted Bessie to scream louder, if that was even possible, pleading with the silver queen to stop, _please stop, please, please **STOP-**_

But Jane didn’t.

“Hold her still.” She order in her queen voice, and Anna and Howard obeyed, pinning down Bessie’s arms and legs. Her one free wing was flapping, splattering their faces in blood and god knows what else, but they held strong.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I’m sorry,” Jane said over Bessie’s wailing. She dug and twisted her fingers around in the wound, feeling deteriorated flesh and muscles rub against her skin, but she didn’t let the disgust get to her. She narrowed her eyes and found the place that was caught. It seemed to be…a hook of sorts? But that was impossible… Avian wings were bird-like, there is no way there would be any kind of hooks or frays or snags.

Unless…

Jane swallowed hard in fright. She carefully pulled on the stuck portion, earning pained noises from Bessie, who was somehow still conscious through all of this. She pulled again and, this time, the skin gave way and the wing burst free.

Bessie goes limp in Maria’s lap, breathing heavily. She’s gasping and choking, struggling to get enough air into her burning lungs. The hand that had been stroking through her hair freezes for a moment before continuing its work.

“You did it, sweetheart,” Maria whispered, leaning down to kiss the top of Bessie’s head. “It’s over. You did it.”

“You have wings, _liebling_!” Cleves exclaimed, grinning widely.

Bessie mumbled something incomprehensible. She raised her head a little to try and look over her shoulder, but pain stopped her and she gave up. A few fresh tears slip out, as the achiness in her back has yet to die down.

“Wings?” She croaked out, eyes squeezed shut.

“That’s right,” Howard brushed some of her tears away, “You have wings, Bessie. They’re going to be so beautiful, sweetie, they _are_ beautiful.”

“I wouldn’t count on that.” Aragon said. Her comment made rage bubble up in Cleves and she snapped her head to the golden queen, teeth gritted.

“What the fuck is your-” The kestrel stops, however, when she notices Jane wiping away some of the slick on Bessie’s right wing with her already-dirty hand.

There…weren’t any feathers.

“Someone get water.” Jane said urgently. “Now!”

Joan shot off of the stage with a beat of her white tern wings, and returns fairly quickly with a cup of water (since they didn’t have any bowls) and a rag. Jane quickly wets the cloth and began cleaning off Bessie’s right wing. When a large portion of blood and fluids was wiped away, Jane gasps, her eyes going wide.

“She…” She stammers, “She’s a bat.”

Anxious looks were exchanged, gasps sounded, even a few queens backed away, as the long-running superstition about bats kept them wry. Aragon narrowed her eyes.

“A bat loosed from hell.” She spat, “Oh, why am I not surprised?” She laughed cruelly, “ _Of course_ she would be one of those things!”

“Will you shut it?” Howard hissed, “It’s not that bad. It was a stupid superstition, anyway.”

“Wasn’t Francis a bat?” Aragon crossed her arms.

Howard freezes and then slowly craned her head around to look at the eagle. Her teeth are bared.

“Don’t you _fucking dare_ bring him up,” She seethed. “Bessie isn’t- she isn’t-” Her rage is snuffed out like a candle. Hearing His voice being spoke by someone else wasn’t right. It made her feel like a helpless little fledgling all over again.

“That’s what I thought.” Aragon said. “Bats are horrible and disgusting creatures. Just like her.” She glared at Bessie.

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Cleves snapped.

“I’m not talking _to_ her, Anna, I’m talking _about_ her.” Aragon tutted.

“What’s the fucking difference?! You’re still being a bitch!”

“Can we all please just stop fighting?” Joan tried to reason with everyone, “The audience can-”

“Fuck the audience!” Cleves roared, “Does it look like I care what the hell they think, Joan?!”

Joan flinched and backed away, lowering her head. She decided to just leave the stage, knowing she was going to have to do some damage control for the extended interruption, anyway.

“You don’t care about the audience?” Aragon raised one eyebrow and then laughed harshly, “Oh, you don’t even realize the fallout of this, do you? Not only was the show, which they paid a lot of money to come see, interrupted, but they also got to listen to _this thing_ screaming like a baby.”

“She isn’t a thing.” Howard snarled.

“She is now.”

“Will you shut the fuck up?!” Maria cried. She has finally reached her limit with all of this; her eyes glow like hot coals with her fury. “You have no fucking right treating Bessie like this because YOU’RE the reason she’s now like this! YOU took her wings away! YOU made her flightless! There’s no one to blame but YOU, Catalina, so she your damn mouth and stop acting like you’re the good guy here!”

“Don’t you know what she is, Maria?” Aragon growled, “She’s _a bat_. Bats _eat_ birds.”

“Yeah, well so do eagles.” Maria challenged. She flexed her own wings, “So do vultures. Doesn’t make her special.”

“You know the stories tied behind those creatures,” Aragon said calmly, keeping her voice level, “You’ve heard them. You know why people hate them. We all hated them.” She turned to leave the stage, but stops for a moment, “Someone once told me to never trust a crow. I should have listened to her back then, but I will now, especially when that crow has turned into a bat.”

With that, she strides off to go help with damage control. Anne, Parr, and Maggie slowly follow, but not without Maggie glancing back for a second. Jane stays behind, busy cleaning Bessie’s wings.

“You don’t have to stay, you know,” Maria said quietly. She was finally hearing the commotion of the audience behind the curtains. She couldn’t even begin to process what they must be thinking.

“Yes, but I’ve already gotten started on grooming her, and who am I to stop?” Jane chuckles. She smiled a little when she felt Bessie’s wing flutter under her touch, “You know, I never understood why everyone hates bats. I mean, sure, I’ll admit that I was wry of them, but what for? Because their wings don’t have feathers?” She shook her head, “It doesn’t make sense.”

Her words hang in the air as she finishes up Bessie’s wings. She smiled at her handiwork, setting the rag to the side.

“There we go.” She said. “Oh my… Would you look at them?”

Despite lacking colorful feathers, Bessie’s wings were still frighteningly beautiful. They were a soft shade of black with dark brown areas here and there and were dappled with pale spots along the inside. The limbs were fuzzy and velvety to the touch, if not a bit bony.

“She has wings,” Howard murmured.

“Yeah,” Cleves said, equally as soft.

“M…Maria?”

Maria looked down, seeing Bessie’s dark eyes staring up at her. She smiled softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” The drummer said, “How are you feeling?”

“Achy,” Bessie replied, “Catalina’s mad at me, isn’t she?”

“Yes…but what else is new?”

That got the tiniest laugh out of Bessie.

“Let’s get you home, okay? You must be so tired.”

“I am.”

Bessie rolled over and stretched out her wings. It makes her muscles burn, but it also feels good to flex them. She almost smiles, but then she notices the horrified looks on Maria, Cleves, Howard, and Jane’s faces.

“Guys?”


End file.
